Couple bang babysitter amia forum1/29/2024 it was a different feeling, walking in with her, holding my ticket tightly in my hand. she fixed my tie, and my cuffs, as we walked to the school. there was too much, i felt she had taken a bath in it before i knocked on her door, her face screwed up like mine had. maybe it was how i said it, my face screwed up, eyes drawn narrow, nose held up like i had smelled a foul odor. i never understood why she called me a fool, incapable of love, when i asked why she felt like she was shaking, how the heat radiated off of her, after she danced with him. i never understood why her face was always a deep red when she caught up with me later. the way he grabbed her waist when they danced, how she bit her lip, how the only time he let go of her was to push her loose, dark hair behind her ear. looking down at everyone, even if he wasn’t that much of an asshole. death is just death, and now she is as much nothing as i am. i could never be more than nothing and she could be anything. these walls were just walls, all this metal was just metal, and these words were just words and her love was just love and i am nothing. even if i see sweet clementine and Dennis and even Alan standing at the foot of my bed, watching me. and quincy's stories would always be stories, and her characters would always be just characters, even if still today i can hear jupiter in my head, telling me things quincy would have said. just like jupiter would always be jupiter, even if people called her ‘imaginary’. to me, she would never be anything but quincy. when she told me her real name, i didn't even listen. she'd cry to me, telling me her name wasn't even quincy. They called her john quincy adams almost all the time. at least, for that moment, i had her, and jupiter. Between shaky breaths and uncertain steps, i cherished this exact moment. my hands soaked through the envelope as i clutched it against my fast-beating heart. red faced, the counselor had handed me a note, politely explaining to my father how i fucked up that day. her name was Jupiter, she said tugging my hand away from the camp. I had been walking home with quincy as she whispered to me about a woman who had eleven toes, and the extra toe gave her powers. if she'd asked me what my biggest regret was now, at this moment, i would look down into her cold open grave and whisper, it was how she died. she was different, she could live her life with someone who loved her, and would want a future with her, and yet she wasted her life. maybe i hated her, even when she loved me like she did. maybe now, looking back, she might regret that. i had my problems, she said as she held my hands, and she said she'd stay for me. last week, she told me she'd be there for me, always. she was seven, i was six, and we had been friends back then. I've been calling her quincy since i met her at summer camp. i told her, our fingers laced together, it was not killing her sooner. I remember, one dark morning, she asked me, in a voice barely above a whisper, what my biggest regret in life was. she was there for me, to calm me when i need it, to make me feel safe when i didn't, to save me from the end when i was about to welcome him. she told me stories until it was two in the morning, stories that shooed away the men that lurked in my thoughts every night. Words didn't flow from my mouth like they did hers. This piece contains mature, adult themes that involve rape, sexual assault, and murder.
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